


put my heart on my chest, so you can read it too

by driedupwishes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Language Barrier, M/M, Pre-Relationship, set in the early days of the show, teaching ur future bf some of ur home language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedupwishes/pseuds/driedupwishes
Summary: “Victor,” Yuuri says, rolling his shoulders as he leans his elbows against the top of the wall. Victor looks up, eyebrows arched in waiting, and Yuuri meets his eyes with the kind of ease that’s gotten more natural by the day since Victor arrived. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but, I was wondering…”
Curiosity flashes across Victor’s expression, one of the emotions Yuuri is able to recognize easily on his former-idol. Victor hums, leaning forward and tucking his phone away under his arm, giving Yuuri his undivided attention in a way that curls Yuuri’s toes in his skates. Once Yuuri would’ve flushed and stuttered at the feeling of Victor’s weighty gaze dragging across his face, but now he only shrugs and bites his lip.
“Is it hard for you,” Yuuri asks, “being in a country where you don’t speak the language?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> slinks in 10 episodes late w starbucks and a sheepish expression

It’s during the wind-down moment after practice, Yuuri stretching out his muscles at edge of the rink while Victor scrolls through his phone. One moment he’s thinking about his jump sequence and the next, like lightning, the thought strikes him.

“Victor,” Yuuri says, rolling his shoulders as he leans his elbows against the top of the wall. Victor looks up, eyebrows arched in waiting, and Yuuri meets his eyes with the kind of ease that’s gotten more natural by the day since Victor arrived. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but, I was wondering…”

Curiosity flashes across Victor’s expression, one of the emotions Yuuri is able to recognize easily on his former-idol. Victor hums, leaning forward and tucking his phone away under his arm, giving Yuuri his undivided attention in a way that curls Yuuri’s toes in his skates. Once Yuuri would’ve flushed and stuttered at the feeling of Victor’s weighty gaze dragging across his face, but now he only shrugs and bites his lip.

“Is it hard for you,” Yuuri asks, “being in a country where you don’t speak the language?”

Victor leans back, surprised but not visibly offended, his eyebrows arching even higher on his forehead until they’re almost lost in his artfully ruffled bangs. He hums in his throat, pursing his lips in an exaggerated show of thought, and then shrugs.

“Da i net,” Victor says. Yuuri feels his face scrunch up in confusion, even as mischief dances across Victor’s face in the same beautiful twirls the man can do on the ice. Victor switches back to their shared English with a shake of his head. “Yes and no,” he translates, “but it is not a problem. Japanese may be out of my reach right now, but the people here are nice and either you or Minako are never far to translate.”

Yuuri feels something unfurl and bloom in his chest, something warm and shivering as it winds its way around his heart and squeezes. He nods along to Victor’s explanation, tapping his fingers along the top of the wall as his thoughts slide to memories. Victor leans forward once more, nudging him to the present before he can go too far into his own head, all without touching Yuuri once.

“Something on your mind, Yuuri?”

Something bold snakes like lightning up his spine, the same feeling he tries to channel when he skates, and Yuuri speaks before the feeling can leave him without any courage. “Boku wa kyōmi ga arimashita,” he teases and Victor’s pout graces his lips, though his blue eyes sparkle with mirth. Yuuri finds himself smothering a laugh with his hand as he shakes his head and translates back to English.

“I was just curious,” Yuuri answers, pushing off the wall to skate the few feet to the opening, where he can step off the ice. He picks up the covers to his blades from the top of the wall and bends to slide them on, feeling Victor’s gaze on him the entire time. “I had a rough time in Detroit, at first,” he offers in explanation.

One of the emotions Yuuri hasn’t been able to pin down and understand flits across Victor’s face, there and gone. His coach turns from glittering and grinning to solemn and serious, the same way the ice does in the light. Yuuri feels his breath catch and he takes a moment as he straightens to shake the sudden feeling that Victor’s picking him apart, the way he does his skating routines, looking for some hidden thing to unravel where it all went wrong.

He resists the urge to say _if you find it, let me know, I’ve been wondering that for years_ , swallowing back the abrasive self judgement that he knows will only end with him jogging laps around the rink. Victor’s solution to Yuuri’s poor self-esteem is equal parts reassuring words and touches and having him run laps until he’s too tired to hate himself. It works, Yuuri thinks with amusement; since they’ve struck a better balance as coach and athlete, Yuuri’s felt better about himself and his skating than he has in months.

“I wasn’t the only one though,” Yuuri continues as he comes to sit next to his coach, who’s still watching him like a hawk. Yuuri shrugs and Victor’s eyes dance across the movement in his shoulders, Vitkor’s silence one of patience without judgement. “Phichit and I started training there around the same time and we roomed for college too. We knew a little English each before we got there, but it was nice, having someone there who was having the same struggles to adapt as I was.”

Victor hums, the noise faint in the back of his throat, and says nothing for the time it takes Yuuri to unlace his skates and replace them with his sneakers. When Yuuri peeks up at him from his hair he finds Victor looking at him, part calculating coach and part curious foreigner.

“Did Phichit ever teach you Thai?”

Yuuri feels his eyebrows furrow on his forehead before he shakes his head. “We were too busy,” Yuuri answers with a shrug, “and communicating in English helped both of us improve. I recognize a few words of the language from living with him, but we never sat down and tried to teach one another anything.”

Something nameless carves its way across Victor’s expression, something that Yuuri feels echoed in his chest without knowing what to call it. _Want_ , he thinks it might be, but Victor is so careful with his expression and so much gets lost in translation even with their shared knowledge of English; sometimes Yuuri thinks he sees one thing in Victor’s face and hears another from his mouth.

Sometimes Yuuri wonders if Victor has the same issue reading him as well.

Yuuri cocks his head at Victor, who is usually the first to hop up and set the pace for their way home. Dinner will be served soon at the inn, something warm and delicious, and while Victor and Yuuri’s mother cannot communicate, their fondness for each other surpasses words. His mother dotes on Victor and Victor in turns soaks up the attention and scarfs down the food he’s given with such enthusiasm Yuuri hasn’t had to translate his coach’s thanks in weeks.

“Victor,” Yuuri prods quietly. He even risks nudging his elbow gently into Victor’s side, knowing he’s not usually the first to initiate touch but finding it oddly easy to do so when it’s just them, alone in the otherwise quiet of the Ice Castle. “Everything alright?”

Victor blinks, his eyelashes dancing across the tops of his cheeks in fleeting kisses, but while Yuuri expects him to shake his head and laugh, Victor doesn’t. Instead he says, “would you like to learn Russian, Yuuri?”

Yuuri blinks. Shock probably paints his cheeks pink, as he’s told it often does, and he feels a warmth race through him, to the tips of his fingers. For his part Victor looks unruffled, as if he hadn’t placed such careful weight on his words as he had. Yuuri swallows, throat suddenly dry, and cannot understand why the idea of Victor teaching him Russian makes his chest so tight.

“I, uh- yes,” Yuuri says.

Victor looks amused, but the expression is shallow. Yuuri would bet his skates something else lurks beneath, but whatever it is, he doesn’t have a name for it yet. “Yes?”

Yuuri nods. “Yes, I would,” he says. He feels Victor’s shoulder brush his as his coach twists to face him on the bench and Yuuri mimics the motion, until their knees area almost pressed together and their chests are parallel. “Would you like to learn Japanese, Victor?”

Yuuri feels silly after he says it, remembering the interview before the competition with Yuri and how Victor had spoken a little of Japanese to promote the city. Victor probably knows more Japanese than Yuuri knows Thai, the realization of which starts the crawl of shame down his throat. But that flush of feeling is stopped in its tracks as Victor’s expression transforms in front of him.

Some of the seriousness fades from Victor’s expression, warming in the same way spring melts the ice of winter, and when he smiles he shows off his teeth in a crooked, toothy, charming way. “Yes, please,” he says. Yuuri feels a tingle crawl down his spine to his toes. He clears his throat, patting his sternum for a moment before reaching his hand forward in a formal shake.

“Kon'nichiwa,” Yuuri says quietly. He clears his throat again, opening his mouth to translate what he’s said into English, but Victor takes his hand with eyes that sparkle and Yuuri’s translation dries up on the back of his tongue.

“Privet,” Victor says, just as quietly as Yuuri had. The word is just a sound against Yuuri’s ears, harsh and guttural in a way that has him breathless with surprise. He’s heard Victor speak Russian before, to Yuri and to Makkachin when giving the dog commands, but having it spoken to Yuuri with all of the other man’s sharp focus and pointed intent is different.

_You really never will stop surprising me_ , Yuuri thinks, shaking Victor’s hand and watching Victor’s lips twitch into a pleased grin. The thought gives birth to an ache in his chest, a need building in his very being to surprise Victor as much as Victor’s surprised him.

He wants, more than anything, to keep this man on his toes, breathless with anticipation as he wonders what Yuuri will do next.

It’s a silly aspiration when Yuuri knows better than most _nobody_ surprises Victor Nikiforov, but Minako has always told him to shoot for the stars.

Victor opens his mouth, but Yuuri interrupts him, beating him to the punch. “Privet,” he repeats back to his blue eyed coach. The sounds come out jumbled, the _hello_ he thinks he’s saying more than certainly wrong since he’s only heard the word once, but despite that, despite everything, Victor’s face bursts like a firework into delighted surprise.

“ _Da_ ,” he shouts in Russian, pumping Yuuri’s hand, suddenly clutching at him with both of his hands until Yuuri can feel the heat of Victor’s long elegant fingers even through his gloves. “Yes, Yuuri, _yes_! That was good, that was very good!”

Yuuri ducks his head, feeling his cheeks heat in a flush that’s just as much delight as it is embarrassment. “Thank you,” he says shyly, realizing a second too late that he’s leaning into Victor’s space, pulled to him like an orbiting planet as if his center of gravity revolves around their joined hands. The thought makes his throat tight and his head spins, but he stays, the ache of his muscles and the frustrations of practice falling away in the face of Victor’s bright enthusiasm.

_If only he was this enthusiastic when I get something right on the ice,_ Yuuri thinks, but Victor’s strict coaching has never been without encouragement and learning a language for fun is a different kind of teaching altogether than competitive skating.

Victor stands abruptly, pulling Yuuri along with him through their joined hands. “Come, Yuuri, _posh'lee_! Let’s go home, we can share languages over dinner!” 

Yuuri finds himself laughing at the way he finds himself pulled after Victor, with only a second to get his bearings and dump his skates into his bag before he’s swept up into the warm, bright whirlwind of excitement that is Victor. He barely stumbles as he pushes forward to keep up, Victor conceding him one of his hands but keeping the other captive to pull him along. Yuuri can only shake his head, laughter spilling out of him like steam from the onsen, his heart rattling in his chest as he tries to mouth the Russian word Victor has said.

The air outside is cold, the way that always feels both like a blessing and a curse after training so long and hard. Yuuri sucks in a breath, workout bag still dangling from his hand as Victor pulls him along, and a shiver that has nothing to do with the chilly fresh air crawls up his spine when Victor turns his sparkling, mischievous eyes on him.

“First I’ll teach you the swears,” Victor says, curling his tongue around what must be a few such words without a pause for what they mean. Victor says it, Yuuri thinks, just to scandalize him, which it _does_ , Yuuri’s head snapping up at the foreign words with a yelp.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Yuuri snaps. His embarrassment at the realization that _privet_ could have been a swear all along makes the word come out harshly, but Victor’s pout holds no sting of pain, lingering only a moment before the other man throws his head back and laughs.

“Oh, but Yuuri,” Victor chides, “if you don’t learn the swears, how will you communicate with Yurio in the next competition? Half of what he says is foul language.”

Yuuri remembers the sharp sound of Yuri yelling, his voice loud enough to echo all the way through the rink in English and in Russian, sometimes nearly unintelligible even when he was speaking the language Yuuri understood. He can’t imagine speaking with Yuri in _Russian_ , let alone swearing with him in it. The thought is so absurd he can only shake his head, laughing slightly at Victor’s teasing.

“We’ll speak _English_ , Victor,” Yuuri tells his coach. Victor scoffs, as if the idea is beneath them even as they _speak English to each other_ , and Yuuri reflects that in all his childhood daydreams, he had never imagined Victor Nikiforov, _the Victor Nikiforov_ , to be so teasingly dramatic.

“Does this mean you won’t teach me any swears in Japanese,” Victor says. Yuuri thinks his tone is supposed to be coy, but there’s something too warm in Victor’s throat, like bubbling laughter after a bottle of sake, and instead his words are buried in Yuuri’s answering laugh.

“Īe,” he says, which he _knows_ Victor knows _does not_ mean yes. Victor opens his mouth, lips curling into a grin, and he repeats it in English. “No, absolutely not, Victor.”

Victor bats his eyelashes at Yuuri, but Yuuri stands his ground, shaking his head and feeling his bag bump against his hip as he finally thinks to sling to over his shoulder. Victor is still holding his hand, but Yuuri lets the momentary pulse of panic and embarrassment at that wash over him like a tide. It’s already dark out and everyone in town has already adjusted to the strange things their prolonged foreign visitor does around Yuuri, which Yuuri appreciates as the blessing it is. Finally, after an eternity of fluttering silver lashes dancing against Victor’s cheeks, the other man gives it up, huffing in exaggerated exasperation before shooting Yuuri a sly look from the corner of his eye.

“If you don’t teach me, Minako will,” Victor taunts and Yuuri has to concede his point after a long, pointed moment as he weighs his options.

“Tawagoto,” he says eventually. Victor looks delighted at the word, clutching at Yuuri’s hand more tightly in his own and using it to shake him a little, until Yuuri stumbles into Victor’s shoulder with a laugh.

“And it _means_ ,” Victor asks, impatient when Yuuri doesn’t rush to clarify. Yuuri feels his cheeks heat as he sighs again, averting his eyes to the stars above them before he gives in.

“Shit,” he translates.

Victor’s crowing laughter is loud enough it trembles the walls of nearby buildings, Yuuri is sure of it. “I knew it,” Victor cries. “You say that when you fall on the ice, I _knew_ you were swearing.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes at Victor’s delight, which only seems to delight him more. Victor tries to pronounce the word and fails, giving too much force to one syllable and not enough to another. It’s cute, Yuuri thinks, watching Victor’s eyes narrow as he concentrates. Victor slides an expectant glance at Yuuri, who repeats the word again as if in a trance, so intently ensnared by this new side of Victor that he’s found that he doesn’t think of the consequences of his actions.

Consequences that come all too soon, Yuuri finds, as Victor delights in yelling out, “ _tawagoto_ ,” at the top of his lungs later than night when Minako and Mari are sitting with them at dinner after food falls from between his chopsticks.

The whole room stares at them for a moment, hushed and horrified, everyone seemingly frozen in time, but it’s only seconds before Mari and Minako’s gazes swivel to pin Yuuri in place. Yuuri feels his face heat almost instantly with shame, the kind of embarrassment that comes with his former teacher and older sister giving him looks almost too knowing. He turns to give Victor a look, mouth open in an attempt to berate the other man, but Victor already looks sheepish, his enthusiasm from earlier mixing with an expression that reads, for once, that he clearly knows he’s crossed a line.

Yuuri feels his anger vanish before it can even properly build. Minako starts to cackle while Mari, sensing his weakness as only sisters can, pounces on him from across the table, hissing _you taught him to swear_ in morbid delight.

“Blyat'," Yuuri says, pointedly loud enough to be heard over the women sitting with them. His pronunciation probably leaves much to be desired, but Victor’s startled laugh, as well as the light that comes back to the other man’s expression makes it worth it.

It is, however, less worth it when Mari shoves off from the table with a shriek, whirling off toward the kitchen where their mother is, yelling at the top of her lungs about how Yuuri is corrupting their precious foreign guest and teaching him swears. But Victor, in the casual easy way he does, soothes Yuuri’s sting of embarrassment by slinging his arm around his shoulders and drawing him near.

“Gomen'nasai,” Victor says. His apology is sincere, even if his pronunciation is rough and lopsided. Yuuri draws on one of the four things in Russian he now knows, leaning back into the other man’s warmth with a shake of his head.

“Vse v poryadke,” he says. His pronunciation probably leaves even more to be desired than Victor’s, but he doesn’t care. _It’s alright_.

And it is alright. It is, in fact, better than alright, but Yuuri doesn’t know how to say that in Russian.

_Yet_ , he thinks, the thought filling him with the same kind of excitement and promise for the future that Victor’s coaching does. _I don’t know how to say it in Russian yet_ , _but I will._

Next to him Victor shifts, pinning Yuuri with a look out of the corner of his eye like he knows what Yuuri’s thinking, and he smiles, soft and slow and spectacularly beautiful in the soft light of the inn. Yuuri smiles back before leaning forward, feeling Victor shift with him as they both lean forward to return to their meals.

Victor manages to finish eating without retracting his arm from around Yuuri’s shoulders and Yuuri manages to finish without pulling away. It’s not much, but to Yuuri it feels like a meeting in the middle, like the start to something he cannot name. It’ll find a name for it, though, he’s sure, and when he does he’ll have Victor teach him how to say it in Russian too. The thought makes him smile, even as Mari and his mother bustle out of the kitchen with twin teasing grins.

**Author's Note:**

> hello hi i am here and i bring the "set early in the training days language barrier fic" no one asked for  
> enjoy!
> 
> edit: I google translated everything and omg I'm getting lessons in both languages with y'alls feedback, which is kinda cute. keep letting me know if I can improve smth!!! and thank u ♡

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [put my heart on my chest, so you can read it too [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9096196) by [KD reads (KDHeart)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDHeart/pseuds/KD%20reads)




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